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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28301889">When We're Together, I Could Stay Forever</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/VJR22_6/pseuds/VJR22_6'>VJR22_6</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Found Family, Snowball Fight, a couple others appear at the very end but only briefly so i wont tag them, post-foreverglades and post-santa stole christmas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 14:28:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,495</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28301889</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/VJR22_6/pseuds/VJR22_6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Goldie tags along with Scrooge through a cold forest to find the perfect Christmas tree, and starts a little snowball fight just to stir up a little trouble.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Scrooge McDuck/"Glittering" Goldie O'Gilt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>When We're Together, I Could Stay Forever</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello again! This is part of Twitter's secret santa project, for @/Abiskibita1. I've never done one of these exchanges before but I hope you like this!</p><p>Just a quick note on where this fits timeline-wise, I wanted it to be after Scrooge gets comfortable with Christmas again, but I wanted it to not be too long after Florida, so just assume what you will about where this fit fits based on where in the timeline you think the Santa episode is. That's not terribly important but I thought I'd explain anyway.</p><p>In any case, happy holidays, and remember to leave a comment if you like this!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I haven’t been this cold in years.” Goldie tugs her coat on a little tighter, bracing against the freezing breeze. “Why couldn’t you have gotten one of your kids to get the stupid tree?”</p><p>“Della wanted ta spend more time with the boys, making up fer the time she lost, I s’pose,” Scrooge replies, as if this isn’t the third time she’s asked that today. “An’ I dinnae trust Donald or Launchpad not ta ruin the thing on the way back.”</p><p>“We both know you have more kids than that.”</p><p>The old duck simply sighs, lifting a snow-laden branch just enough to pass underneath. Goldie follows, flicking it first so the snow falls off rather than landing on her expensive coat. Some of the powdery flakes fly into Scrooge’s back, and she doesn’t suppress her laughter when he jumps at the sudden cold.</p><p>“Yer goin’ ta be the death of me,” he scowls at her once he’s landed on his feet again.</p><p>“This <i>cold</i> is going to be the death of us both if we don’t hurry up.”</p><p>“Ye complain too much,” he retorts, stepping over a fallen log. “Ye should’ve gone inside, rather than follow me all the way out here.”</p><p>“And sit around baking cookies or decorating the place like an old lady, while your loud little nephews and niece bombard me with questions? I think not, moneybags.”</p><p>“Ye <i>are</i> old,” he grumbles, straightening his ever-stiff top hat. “And so am I. But why would ye come for Christmas at all, then?”</p><p>“You know why.”</p><p>Maybe he doesn’t, Goldie considers. After all, this year has been full of change—the last few years have, actually. Maybe Scrooge really doesn’t know why she’s spending the end of the year in Duckburg. Maybe he doesn’t know about Louie saving her, or about the fear she felt when she found the fountain gone.</p><p>Or, maybe, he thinks about that sweet spring break kiss as often as she does, and knows she misses him as often as the stars miss the moon.</p><p>Not that she’d say that, of course. She has a reputation. And that includes brushing off the warm and fuzzies to face this winter wonderland and haul a nice tree back to the mansion.</p><p>If they can even find one.</p><p>She remembers one Christmas with a tall, over-decorated tree that reached toward a ceiling more than twice her height, and a party full of rich snobs. She’d come just to indulge her thieving tendencies, but she’d had a bit of fun. That tree is probably close to their goal, she assumes, and the trees around them now aren’t nearly lavish enough.</p><p>But as they walk she finds herself thinking about another Christmas, in a cabin, with a short, damaged little tree in the front window. It was half-dead when they found it, but they hauled it back anyway and wrapped popcorn strands around it to make it look nice in absence of any ornaments or tinsel. She longs for those forgotten days more than anything, but she thinks about sitting poolside at a resort and rainbow waterfalls and singing on a train, and knows in her heart that the trade-off wouldn’t be worth it if she got the chance.</p><p>As they venture further out, the trees get larger. The branches grow thick, reaching for the sky, blocking out the already dim, cloudy light above them. But none of these trees feel right, and Scrooge has never been one to settle. So they trudge onward, and Goldie’s boots grow cold the more snow she steps in.</p><p>“My feet are freezing.”</p><p>“Ye already said that an hour ago.”</p><p>“And yet, I’m still cold.”</p><p>“I’m not.” He begins carefully stepping over a fallen tree in their path. “Fer someone that used t’ be called the <i>Ice</i> Queen of Dawson, ye really complain a lot about the snow.”</p><p>“Don’t tell me your joints aren’t hurting too, old man.” She follows him over the snow-covered log, nearly slipping on its snowy surface. She catches herself by planting one mitten-wrapped hand firmly in said snow, and it crunches quietly under the impact. She glances down at it, an idea sparking to life.</p><p>Scrooge trots on ahead, expertly weaving through the winter wonderland. She stands up and dusts herself off, then reaches for the snow beside her. She bides her time, waiting until he’s just far enough ahead, and….</p><p>She tosses a tightly-packed snowball, and though her throwing is half-hearted, it sails through the air easily. It smacks into his shoulder, exploding into white clumps that collapse to the ground before he even registers what’s happened. He startles like a deer, whipping around and meeting her eyes.</p><p>She grins mischievously, much the same as she does when she’s just swiped something of his. He frowns at first, a quiet moment passing as a soft breeze twirls through the forest, whipping up snow on its way. And then he laughs, his stiff facade fading.</p><p>He’s quick to scoop up a snowball of his own, and though she’s alert enough to dodge, it ignites something in them both.</p><p>Goldie’s used to a teasing sort of quality to their relationship. Often, that shows itself with thievery from her and him ruffling her feathers with words. Everything between them is a careful dance, and until recently they were dancing too far apart. Now, though… well.</p><p>Running through snowy woods, laughing loudly because no one can hear? Throwing snowballs at each other, hardly with the intent to actually hit each other? She almost feels like a young woman again. It’s pretty and playful and downright perfect, or as close as Goldie’s ever gotten, anyway.</p><p>She throws a few snowballs around, and runs from Scrooge’s in equal measure. They traverse through the trees, running further and further along. The sky grows even darker, and the whole place grows silent, save for their shared laughter. It’s far from the first time, but being with Scrooge makes Goldie feel like a little girl again, and she knows it’s a high she can never stop chasing, metaphorically or physically.</p><p>She turns to see how far behind he is, and takes a hit to the chest. It’s soft, exploding into a million tiny pieces on contact. She’s all the colder for it, but she throws another, and it strikes him just as easily.</p><p>“Now we’re both cold,” he laughs, obviously a bit breathless. “Happy now?”</p><p>“Very,” she smiles in return, overwhelmed with love even though they’re both a bit of a mess.</p><p>They come to a stop together, a silent truce, and she pulls him close. Despite their ever-adventurous natures, they aren’t young anymore, and it’ll take a minute to catch their breath. A minute she’d prefer to spend with her arms around his shoulders, fingers laced together, slowly warming each other with an embrace.</p><p>He hugs her too, hands quietly finding a familiar spot against her back. He leans in, kissing her lightly on the cheek and sending a shiver up her spine, for once not a cold one. Then, he settles his head against her shoulder, and she feels like she’s fallen for him all over again.</p><p>When they finally let go, a lovingly long moment later, she looks up at the trees around them. She can’t suppress a gasp as the beauty of the snow-coated world around them now. It’s postcard-worthy, with sunlight breaking through the ever-present snowy clouds above. The snow glitters peacefully, a soft hush over the whole woods now.</p><p>And right in front of them, placed as perfect as can be, is <i>the</i> tree. Just the right height, all the branches lush and even. They’ve found it.</p><p>Goldie has never been one for big family gatherings, for “making memories” or “quality time together.” She helps cut down and haul that tree back to the mansion anyway, and she’s rewarded immediately with warmth, both physically and emotionally.</p><p>Duckworth takes her coat, and not a second later, Della’s hugging her just a little too tight. The girl smells overwhelmingly of jet fuel and peppermint, but she’s got that same dumb blue scarf on, and she’s grinning like a Cheshire as she runs off. She doesn’t seem to have grown up since the last time Goldie saw her, over a decade ago.</p><p>As his niece departs, Scrooge laughs, presumably at Goldie’s obvious confusion.</p><p>“Welcome home.”</p><p>Before she can respond to that, or to the warm feeling it evokes, Webby appears from a side room, shouting something to someone behind her, and then bolting for her chance to give both her uncle and Goldie quick hugs.</p><p>Scrooge scoops the little girl up off the ground, laughing, and carries her off toward where a handful of the others are setting the tree up. Goldie briefly considers following, and whether it’s worth the potentially overly-friendly greetings she’d receive in turn, but she’s again distracted. This time, it’s a familiarly bright-eyed kid in a Christmas tree hoodie.</p><p>“Aunt Goldie! You’re here!”</p><p>“Hey, Sharpie.”</p>
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